The storm broke before dawn.
Rain fell in sheets. Cold. Unrelenting. It soaked the banners of two kings. No one flinched. The valley had waited all night.
Blackvale stretched in broken ridges and charred grass. The eastern river ran red. Horn calls echoed through low fog. The armies of the kingdom of Aldoria and the kingdom of Vesparia moved.
Trading land for hours. Burning villages. Poisoned wells. Giving ground so the kingdom could stand. The ground gained was Blackvale.
________________________________________
The Supreme War General sat on a black warhorse at the front ridge. Silver-streaked hair plastered to his skull. No helm. His eyes moved across the soldiers behind him. Sharp. Assessing. Men who had marched three hundred miles. Who had eaten horseflesh at Valdren Who had left their dead unburied at the Glass Plains.
The rain hammered. No one moved.
Kael raised his head. His voice came like stones grinding.
"Soldiers of Aldoria."
"Roarrrr!!"
Thousands of crys answered.
"You stand for Aldoria, our kingdom. Not for me. Not for gold. But for the dead who held this ground before you and the living who will hold it after.
Silence. The rain drummed.
"The Vesparian believes this stretched war has made you lose the will to fight. Believes you will kneel."
Kael's voice dropped.
"He is wrong. And I will prove it. We will prove it here and now."
He drew his blade. The black steel gleamed.
"What you do here echoes in stone. In memory. In the bones of those who come after. Make it matter."
He looked at them.
"Three hundred miles. Valdren. The Glass Plains. The river fords. The dead pile behind us. Friends. Brothers. Names we knew. Names we spoke. They did not fall so you could kneel. They fell so you could stand here. So you could fight here. So you could win here. Their deaths were not meaningless. They bought this field. They bought this moment. We stand on their bones."
He raised the blade higher.
"The dead have meaning because we, the living, refuse to forget them. Their names live in our hands. Their sacrifice lives in our next breath. So dedicate your hearts. To the ones who walked this road before us and the ones who will walk it after we fall."
Their roar shook the valley.
"So advance. For those who came before and for those who come after. For Aldoria!!!!"
The charge began.
The shieldbearers moved first. Three deep Locked shoulder to shoulder. Behind them, the spearmen found their stride.
A Spearman charged. His blade met a guard's shield. Glanced off. The guard's sword found his throat. He fell. The guard stepped over him. A shieldbearer hit the guard from the side. The guard stumbled. The shieldbearer stabbed. Into the neck. Blood sprayed.
A mage cast fire. Three shieldbearers burned. Screaming. A water-caster raised his hands. A wall of steam erupted. The fire died. The shieldbearers charged through the mist. The fire-mage cast again. The water-caster countered. Steam filled the air. A shieldbearer reached the fire-mage. Broke through his barrier. Crushed his throat.
A wyvern dove. Claws raked the line. A soldier was lifted. Screaming. The wyvern tore him in half. Blood rained. Another soldier rolled. Saw the belly. Armored in scales. He thrusts. The blade skidded. He aimed for the joint. The wyvern shrieked. Banked. Crashed. The soldier walked to the rider. Stamped on his neck.
Another wyvern landed. Crushed two men. Its tail lashed. Broke a man's spine. He folded backward. Still alive. Screaming. A healer ran to him. Hands glowing. Green light. The spine straightened. The man stood. He grabbed his blade. Charged the wyvern. He leaped onto its leg. Climbed. The wyvern shook. He held. Reached the neck. Stabbed. Into the joint. The wyvern thrashed. Died.
An axe-wielder fought nearby. He killed a guard. Stepped into the next one. A spear thrust. He parried. Closed. Killed. Dead. A mage cast lightning at him. A barrier caster threw up a silver wall. The lightning grounded itself into it. The axe-wielder charged. The mage cast fire. The barrier-caster shifted. A water wall rose. Steam exploded. The axe-wielder charged through. Killed the mage.
Brutes came. Hulking. Armored in hound-hide. They hit the line. The axe-wielder's blade found a gap. A brute's club found his neighbor. Skull crushed. The axe-wielder killed the brute. Stepped over the dead.
The third wyvern rose. Higher. Its rider pointed. Lightning gathered. Struck. Men scattered. Burning. The axe-wielder ran. The lightning followed. He dived and Rolled. A healer touched his shoulder. Green light. The burns faded. He stood. The wyvern dove at him. Jaws open. He raised his shield. Trapped. He stabbed upward. Into the roof of the mouth. The wyvern shrieked. Shook its head. He held. Stabbed again. The wyvern crashed. He crawled from its mouth. Covered in blood.
Guards came. Three lines. The axe-wielder hit the first. The man beside him died. The axe-wielder killed the guard, stepped into the second line, and halted their advance. He took a spear in the side but kept moving. The third line waved, then the axe-wielder stopped. The rise opened. Empty.
BOOM.
The shockwave threw him from his feet. He landed hard. The dead wyvern beside him was thrown. Crashed into the eastern ridge.
He looked up.
On the ridge, two figures clashed. Two auras met and warred. The Supreme War General burned deep red. Blood and iron and endless war made visible. The Hollow King oozed dark purple. Demon pacts and corrupted authority given form. Where they touched, the air screamed.
Both armies stopped. Every eye turned to the ridge.
The two figures moved too fast to follow. Blade met demonic authority. A crater opened beneath them. Forty feet deep. They fell into it. Still fighting. Shockwaves pulsed. The eastern ridge collapsed. Stone and mud slid into the Red River.
In the crater, the general struck. The Hollow King raised a barrier of coiled shadow. The red aura flared. The blade met the barrier. The barrier held. He struck again. Cracks formed. A third strike. The barrier shattered. The king stepped back. Raised his hand. Black flame erupted, wrapped in purple. The General's red aura intensified. He raised his blade. The flame met the steel. The metal screamed. He pushed through. His shoulder struck the King's chest. They moved together. Each footfall cratered the earth. The auras grind against each other. Red and purple. War and hell.
The king struck with his free hand. Authority gathered. Hellfire wrapped in violet. He struck the general's side. Ribs shattered. The red aura flickered. The general answered with his knee. Drove it into the King's gut. The purple aura spasmed. Something broke. They separated. Ten yards between them. Carved through solid rock. The slope was gone. They stood in a crater forty feet deep. The walls wept black steam. The auras pulsed. Red against purple. Neither yielding.
The King raised both hands. Demon authority gathered into a spear of red-black corruption. Purple lightning crackled around it. He threw it. The general's red aura flared bright. He caught the spear. The corrosion burned through his palm. He closed his fist. Crushed it. He struck again. The King raised his arms to block. The blade took him through the forearm. Through the shoulder. Through every dark bargain he had ever made. The purple aura died.
The king fell to his knees. The black fire in his sockets dimmed. The demon pacts unraveled.
The general stood over him. The red aura is steady. Bleeding from his side. His hand burned. Ribs cracked. He raised his blade.
The King looked up. Mouth moving. No sound.
The General struck. The blade passed through the neck. Bone. Sinew. The head rolled. Hit the crater floor. Bounce d. Came to rest. Hollow eyes still. Purple is gone.
Silence.
The general climbed from the crater. One arm hung useless. His blade was notched. Blood dripped. He raised the Hollow King's head. The purple was gone. Hollow eyes stared.
Seven shieldbearers near the axe-wielder raised their weapons. The axe wielder raised his. Across the valley, thousands of Aldorian throats roared.
The General's voice cut through the rain. Thunder.
"Their King is dead!"
The roar doubled.
"This field is ours!"
He swept his blade across the valley. Pointing at the fleeing Vesparians.
"Gather them. Chain them. Bring me their heads."
He lowered the blade.
"This ground is Aldorian. Finish it."
He raised the blade again.
" Begin The Hunt"
Three men stepped forward. Two had blood on their armor. The third had clean hands. Organized. Responsible for the wounded.
The general looked at each.
"Lead the hunt," he said to the first two.
"Round them up. Bring me the count."
He turned to the third.
"Gather the wounded. Mark the dead. Burn what must burn."
The three saluted. Turned. Shouted orders. The army split. Hunters pursued. Healers moved among the fallen.
The general walked south. Toward the King's tent. Miles away. His seven shieldbearers followed.
The axe-wielder turned to the hunt.
Blackvale was taken.